Marriage Made of Secrets

She sucked in a ragged breath and Cesare knew he’d got through to her. The late afternoon sun slanting through the windows danced over her fiery hair as she nodded.

Grimly satisfied that his control was under firm guard, he headed for the door, ruthlessly suppressing the old sensations pulling at him, reminding him that his attraction to Ava had always held a fatalistic edge that had excited him.

Doomed him. He’d let it get out of hand the same way he’d let the situation with Roberto and Valentina unravel...

‘So, does that mean you agree to a truce? That you won’t try anything double-crossy somewhere down the line?’

He turned back from the door.

Her eyes reflected a defiance that reluctantly sparked his admiration. None of his family or subordinates would dare press home their advantage this way.

But a line needed to be drawn. ‘That very much depends on you, cara. Your innate inability to not rush in where angels fear to tread could prove your undoing.’

Her lips tightened. ‘Are you calling me a fool?’

‘I’m inviting you to prove me wrong. Stay out of my way for the next six weeks and I’ll have no need to declare war on you.’

* * *

Ava frowned at the closed door, her mind a whirlpool of jumbled thoughts.

She walked over to the French windows and gazed at the sparkling infinity pool. Something was wrong with the picture Cesare was presenting her with.

Even as a newly-wed, she’d realised very quickly that business came first with Cesare. She’d lost count of the times he’d upped and left on a business trip on the strength of a single phone call.

Now, all of a sudden, he’d taken weeks off to spend his summer here.

She wanted to believe that living through a devastating earthquake had changed him...but it was painfully obvious that Cesare was determined to keep her at arm’s length.

Although his attitude towards Annabelle had changed...

Recalling his face when he’d laid their daughter down for her nap, a bittersweet emotion filled her.

If Cesare meant to spend time with Annabelle, Ava welcomed that, although she couldn’t stop the tiniest well of jealousy from rising up.

Pushing the doors open, she stepped onto the terrace. The palazzo baked in the late afternoon sun. Perfumed scents of lemon trees and the specially reared roses the team of gardeners took immense pride in mingled in the air. She inhaled deeply, letting the fragrance suffuse her senses. But the clarity she sought never materialised.

The holiday in Bali had been her last-ditch attempt to reconnect with Cesare. She’d failed spectacularly right from the get-go. That first week, he’d shut himself away in the luxury villa’s study and worked until the early hours of each morning.

On the first morning of their second week, desperate for a break from the overwhelming evidence of her failure, she’d left the villa armed with her camera. She’d been taking pictures of the beautiful local wildlife when the earthquake struck.

Her insides clenched anew at the heart-rending three days they’d searched for Annabelle and Rita.

She shuddered and blinked back the rush of tears. Ironically, she’d felt closer to Cesare in those bleak moments they’d spent ripping apart the marketplace where Rita had been strolling with Annabelle than she’d felt in a long time.

Well, Cesare had been right about one thing...she was a fool.

* * *

The staff had unpacked and folded away her clothes in the master suite on the other side of Annabelle’s room by the time she went upstairs. It took moments to confirm Cesare’s I’ve rearranged a few things didn’t mean he’d moved back into the suite they once shared but rather the one on the other side of Annabelle’s room.

Ava refused to acknowledge the knot in the pit of her stomach and undressed. The sheer gold-coloured muslin curtains that framed the queen-sized bed had been caught up with white velvet rope.

Approaching the bed, she picked up her coffee-coloured kimono-style silk gown and went into the bathroom. Bypassing the sunken marble bath, she entered the shower cubicle. After a refreshing shower, she donned an ankle-length green and white flower-patterned skirt and white top and checked on Annabelle. Finding her still comfortably asleep, Ava slipped her feet into a pair of white thongs, grabbed her laptop and went downstairs.

The aim had been to head to the salone that hugged the western side of the villa and overlooked the stunning gardens. She’d always found that room soothing. But in the hallway she slowed, lingered, unable to stem the flood of memories from washing over her.